


confirm thy soul in self-control

by normativejean



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/normativejean/pseuds/normativejean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are very few things that could make Mellie willingly seek out Olivia's help. Getting an old friend out of trouble is one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	confirm thy soul in self-control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [galfridian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galfridian/gifts).



> For **galfridien**. You're request made me giddy with mutual character adoration, so I tried to give you as much as you wanted! Hope you enjoy, and happy Yuletide!
> 
> A quick note on the timeline: I started writing this earlier in season 2, so assume it occurs sometime between episodes 2 and 4. Its connection to later canon is shaky at best.
> 
> Thank you to my beta, who did her level best to make this better. All remaining issues are mine.

The fundraiser was nothing short of an absolute success, and Mellie felt satisfied enough in everyone’s hard work that she saw no reason not to drop onto the nearest couch and breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

She'd had a relatively easy pregnancy so far, but America’s Baby had apparently decided that right now her lower spine was perfect for stretching against. After almost three hours on her feet as hostess, and most of the earlier day spent directing final set-up, Mellie’s back _hurt_.

There were people she was supposed to use for event planning, Mellie knew. And for official White House galas, that was fine. But this wasn’t an official White House gala. This had nothing to do with the White House, or the Republican Party, or politics, or _Fitz_.

Tonight belonged only to her.

It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, knowing that the evening’s successes weren’t tied in any way to her husband. Mellie knew long before they’d ever married that she would live her life second to Fitz’s ambitions. And that was fine; she had always believed that Fitzgerald Grant would change the world. He’d been the best president America could ever ask for. Mellie would never begrudge her country something like that. She loved it too much.

Once upon a time, she and Fitz had loved each other just as much.

But Mellie was nothing if not practical, and so she would play her part to make sure Fitz could continue serving the country. She would smile for the cameras and be the perfect First Lady of the United States, and in a few more months, she would be able to hold her baby in her arms and remember what it felt like to be unconditionally loved. After Fitz’s term was over…well, Mellie would cross that bridge when she came to it. There was no reason to get ahead of herself.

For tonight, she was just Mellie Grant, a former lawyer who still fought for what she believed in,

She figured that no one would miss her for a few minutes, so she nodded to her Secret Service agents (they were nice, patriotic boys, but good _Lord_ , what she wouldn’t give to have shadows who _smiled_ every once in a while), and quietly slipped out the side door that led to the greenhouse.

It was a beautiful night, and the stars shone clearly through the glass walls. This late in the evening the heat that normally allowed the exotic flowers that Ambassador Crittendon’s wife raised to bloom had dissipated, leaving a gentle stillness in the air. It was a welcome reprieve from the stifling atmosphere of the grand salon, and Mellie lowered herself gracelessly onto the ornate bench that ran between rows of plants. No one was here to see her. They were all inside, and Mellie was happy that so many people had shown up for the fundraiser; it seemed America’s Baby could capture people’s checkbooks as well as their attention.

There had been more than a few raised eyebrows around the White House when Mellie announced she would be co-chairing this year’s Hamilton Foundation autumn fundraiser. It shouldn’t have surprised _anyone_ , given how supportive Mellie had always been in the past; but then again, she’d shied away from advancing her own causes and agendas when they might conflict with Fitz’s.

Hamilton’s big push the past year had been to send girls to school in East Sudan. Mellie would have hosted the fundraiser in the Roosevelt Room if she could.

It was enough to use her influence to get the Crittendon’s to open up their elegant home for the event, which in turn made the Hamilton Foundation gala suddenly become _the_ social event of the season. This was a cause Mellie believed in with all the passion she’d once felt for so many other things in her life. It was good to be able to focus her energy and talent on something besides decorating a nursery and dedicating community centers. It felt _right_.

Though Mellie had to admit, she did enjoy seeing the looks of barely suppressed anger on Fitz’s and Cyrus’s faces whenever she brought up the event. Given that the charity helped fund education for young girls in developing countries where they might never otherwise get the opportunity, her husband and is chief-of-staff couldn’t even speak out against her decision to help. Besting those two for _once_ was just icing on the cake.

 _Ooh,_ Mellie thought. _Cake_. Was she ready to brave the crowds again in order to get another piece of the vanilla-buttercream? She was normally a cookie kind of woman, but this cake had been _divine_.

“Mellie?”

Her head shot up at the voice that broke through her thoughts. Mellie turned around in her seat and smiled widely at the woman poking her head through the glass door. “Annette! Don’t tell me you’re tired of accepting donations already?”

Annette Browning, the executive director of the Hamilton Foundation, offered a tired grin in reply. Not a blonde hair was out of place, despite her non-stop movement all day and night to get the gala running. “I think there are a few Wall Street tycoons I haven’t fleeced yet.”

It was an old joke between them, born out of late nights brainstorming fundraising ideas for the College Republicans and dreaming about the better world they were going to build.

(Mellie had a lot of dreams, once. Fitz was the manifestation of some of them, but not all. She needed to remember that she still had dreams to make real.)

“Good,” Mellie said. She closed her eyes and returned to her original position, facing forward and looking out the glass wall. “I think we can safely say that tonight’s been an unqualified success.” She sighed happily. “I almost have to wonder how we’ll top this next spring.”

She felt Annette take a seat on the wooden bench beside her. “I seem to recall someone once telling me not to count my chickens before they hatch.”

There was something in her voice that sounded heavier than her statement, but Mellie was content to let it slide for the moment. Instead, she opened one eye and snorted. “I would never dispense such obnoxious platitudes.”

“Then of course there was the time you told me not to put the cart before the horse—“

“Stop it.”

“—which was actually _before_ that congressional fundraiser where you said, and I quote—“

“Oh my goodness, stop it!” Mellie laughed and swatted Annette’s arm. “Fine, so my brief, regrettable forays into down-home, folksy wisdom do not represent my finest moments.” She opened both eyes and rubbed her lower stomach, where America’s Baby had kicked in response to her sudden outburst. She supposed the baby wasn’t used to Mellie laughing much. That was another thing she needed to change. “Still,” she said, a softer expression replacing her wide grin, “tonight was a good night.”

Annette twisted to her side, pulling at the stiff evening gown that skimmed her long legs. Mellie tried very hard not to be jealous of her friend’s figure. “I think Senator Tomlinson would disagree about tonight being a good night."

"Only because she has control issues and always thinks she can do things better than everyone else."

"I swear," Annette chuckled, "if I had to listen to one more 'friendly suggestion' from that woman about how _she_ would have handled this fundraiser if she was in charge of the Foundation, I was going to scream. I had to get out of there. So when I saw _you_ sneak away, I figured you were finding a good hiding place."

They both laughed, and Mellie remembered how good it felt to be able to let her guard down, even if only for a few minutes. "I just needed to catch my breath. Give me another moment or two and I'll be back in there with you." She smiled, genuine and warm, and it felt strange on her face. One more thing Mellie needed to consider. "I mean it, I’m excited about what we’ll be able to accomplish next time."

"I thought this was a one-time favor,” Annette said. “You haven’t really taken on your own projects since getting to the White House.”

“Yes, well, I’ve decided that I can’t merely be a decorative object for the Grant Administration. Truthfully, I’d forgotten how much I missed all this.”

“What do you mean?”

Mellie sighed. Looking at the concern in her old friend’s eyes, Mellie felt the weight of the last few years like never before. She had given _so much_ to Fitz because she believed in him; she could have lived with the affair _because_ she believed so strongly in him. But to even consider invalidating all the sacrifices they’d made – that _she’d_ made – because of it was simply more than Mellie could bear. So she did what she’d always done, and come up with a Plan B.

Sitting here, now, America’s Baby in her belly and a room full of rich donors next door, Mellie remembered what it felt like to want things for herself. “Do you remember, oh, ten years ago, maybe?”

Annette’s eyes lit up with recognition. “The Veterans of America fundraiser? God, what a _nightmare_.”

“Half of the generators for the children’s carnival didn’t work.”

“The caterer’s truck broke down just outside of Davis.”

“That accident on the 405 kept all the big celebrities from driving up on time.”

“And it rained.” Annette shook her head. “What in God’s name were we thinking?”

Mellie propped an arm against the back of the bench and rested her head against her fist. “We were thinking that it was Fitz’s second year as governor, and it was a waste of a mansion to not use it for a good cause. We were thinking that our soldiers and their families deserved a day of fun, and that we could raise some money to help them out. We were thinking that a few little snags were just incentive to make it all a success.”

Annette chuckled softly. “We’ve made a pretty good team over the years.”

“I see no reason for that to change.” Mellie smiled. “Like I said, I’ve missed this.”

“You were good.” Annette nodded. “You were always the one with a plan, and then a contingency plan for when something went wrong.”

Mellie shrugged one shoulder. “That just means that technically, nothing ever _really_ goes wrong.”

It felt _so good_ to laugh with an old friend like this. There were very few people who really knew her anymore, at least not with this kind of history. She’d thought, once, that she and Olivia might have moved in enough of the same circles even without Fitz to grow something true, but that was years and an affair ago.

One thing Mellie was certain of, she had no more room in her life for people who also revolved around Fitz.

But something still seemed to be weighing on Annette’s mind, and Mellie had a feeling that she hadn’t just escaped to the greenhouse for the view. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “There’s been something eating at you since you came out here.”

For maybe the third time in the decades they’d known each other, Annette looked close to tears. It took Mellie aback; her friend was even more stoic than she was. “What is it?” Mellie asked urgently, scooting as close as she could with her belly in the way. “Whatever it is, you _know_ you can tell me.”

Annette raised her watery grey eyes to Mellie’s. “I’m resigning from the Hamilton Foundation after tonight.”

“What?” Mellie gasped. “ _Why?_ ”

With shaking hands, Annette reached into her evening clutch and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Mellie could see it had still been crumpled and flattened out several times. She took the paper and opened it, her eyes widening with each shocking word she read. Before Annette even said anything about it, Mellie knew what she would have to do.

“I’m being blackmailed,” Annette said. “If I don’t step down from the Foundation, evidence that I’ve been skimming from the charity will go public.”

Mellie covered her mouth with one hand. “Annette!”

“I didn’t do anything, I swear!” Annette brushed away the lone tear that leaked down her cheek. “But whoever sent this also emailed me copies of financial documents that apparently have my name on them, moving around money from the Foundation’s accounts before transferring it to a Cayman Islands account.” She gripped Mellie’s hand desperately, crushing the damning paper further. “You have to believe me, this is a lie!”

“Oh, of _course_ I believe you!” And Mellie _did_. Annette was one of the few people Mellie could honestly say she _would_ trust implicitly in the face of such a scandal. She’d known the woman for far too long, had been by her side for too many important moments, to ever believe otherwise. Annette didn’t deserve this. “You can’t resign.”

“What choice do I have?” Annette asked. “If I don’t, then they’ll release this…this _lie_ anyway. At least if I step down, I’ll still have my reputation.”

“At the expense of your pride and your career!” Mellie scoffed. “Not to mention, where’s the guarantee that whoever is behind this will leave you alone once you leave Hamilton?”

At that, Annette actually choked out a laugh. “You’ve been hanging around politicians for far too long. You’re more cynical than you used to be.”

Mellie shook her head, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “I’m more realistic than I used to be. You have no guarantees from these people, and no way to safeguard against their accusations if they want something in the future.”

“So what are you suggesting?”

 _Something I would only do for you,_ Mellie thought grimly. “I’m suggesting that you fight back and take these bastards down.”

“How?”

Mellie sighed. She was going to hate every minute of this, but if she didn’t help Annette, then who would? Her friend didn’t deserve to have her life’s work ruined like this.

Well, Mellie had put aside her personal feelings for the good of the country before. She could do it one more time to help a friend who was helping the world.

She met Annette’s eyes, determination rippling through her whole body. “We’re going to get you to Washington’s best fixer, and she’s going to save your job and your reputation, and bring whoever’s behind this to justice.”

XXXXX

It was almost 10:30 on a Thursday night, but the office of Pope & Associates still hummed with energy.

“Okay, people!” Olivia called over the din of the conference room. “What’s the latest on Congressman Marquez’s case?”

“The son’s DUI won’t appear on his record since he’s sixteen,” Harrison said, “but the community service might look suspicious after all the tabloid buzz.”

Abby snorted, fanning herself with an empty folder. “Gee, I can’t imagine why the internet was all atwitter about a politician’s underage kid drinking and driving with three Disney stars.”

“I hate Twitter,” Huck grumbled.

“Just write a press release that the Congressman’s son wants to honestly make reparations for his actions, even though no one was hurt.” Olivia waved a hand in the air. “Say he’s, I don’t know, trying to grow as a person or something.”

“Just like Daddy?” Abby asked innocently.

Harrison made a _tsk_ -ing noise at her. “Now, now, be nice to the man with a, what was it? A ‘glandular problem’?”

Quinn snorted, but Olivia _knew_ she was muffling her laughter.

“Something to add, Lindsay?” Abby asked.

“It’s _Quinn_.” 

Uh-oh, Olivia did not like the look on Quinn’s face.

“You say potato, I say murderess—“

“How about you say, ‘proven innocent in a court of law’?”

“How about you _bite me_ \--“

Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh my God, I own like, three guns!”

The women immediately settled down. “Sorry, Liv,” Abby mumbled.

Quinn gulped. “Sorry, Olivia.”

She leveled a stern look at the two. “Are we good? Good. Now, what else?”

Huck raised a hand, never looking up from his laptop. “I put a trace on the DC Circuit’s server to see who in Judge Hamlin’s office has been leaking the witness lists.” 

“You can do that?”

Quinn peered over Huck’s shoulder to look at the screen, her cheek perilously close to his. Olivia had decided that until Huck said something, she was just going to pretend not to notice the tentative little dance between them. There was _way_ too much wrong with something happening between those two. Olivia regretted how much life had taken away from Huck, and it seemed that now she, too, was responsible for ruining one more thing that might have been good for him.

Better to keep everyone on task. “Okay, Huck. Keep me posted on that. Anything else?”

They didn’t say anything, and Olivia was more than happy to send everyone home for the evening. Maybe she’d actually get a decent night’s sleep for once.

There would certainly be no more late night phone calls from the West Wing. She tried to tell herself that was a good thing.

“Okay, then.” She clapped her hands together and pasted a bright smile on her face. Her staff was fractured enough right now, between Steven and Quinn and the trial; they didn’t need to know everything else she was dealing with. “Let’s wrap it up and get out of here. I don’t know about you guys, but I just want to _go home_.”

From the doorway, an all-too-familiar voice said, “That’s really too bad, because we’re here with a bit of an emergency.”

All eyes shot to Mellie Grant, her two Secret Service agents, and the woman standing beside her. Olivia sucked in a breath. “Oh, my god. Annette?”

Annette offered her a tired smile. “Hi, Liv. Haven’t seen you since the Al Smith Dinner during the campaign.”

Mellie, a woman who had once been Olivia’s friend and was now reduced to being the woman married to the man Olivia failed to not be in love with, met her eyes. “Olivia, we need your help. Is there somewhere private we could talk?”

So much for getting some sleep tonight.

XXXXX

It struck Mellie as funny that she’d never been to Olivia’s office before. After everything they’d been through, first as friends and then as --not enemies, but certainly opponents -- it seemed like the kind of thing that should have happened regularly. After all, Olivia had spent more than her fair share of time in Mellie’s East Wing office, and Mellie could still find her way to Olivia’s old West Wing office with her eyes closed.

“Well,” Mellie said, carefully lowering herself into one of the chairs in front of Olivia’s large, dark wood desk. It didn’t escape her notice that both Annette and Olivia moved to offer assistance; she felt a pang as she wondered what the three of them might have accomplished together in another life. “It’s certainly bigger than your office at the White House.”

Olivia blinked, obviously not expecting the small talk, but she recovered quickly. Olivia’d always had an enviable poker face. “The private sector definitely has its benefits.” Olivia turned to Annette; Mellie noticed that her eyes softened slightly. “It’s good to see you, Annette. I heard about the Hamilton Foundation. Congratulations; that’s quite a position.”

Annette faltered at what to say, though Mellie didn’t miss the brief flash in her eyes at Olivia’s warm greeting. Mellie had never said _anything_ to _anyone_ about Olivia and Fitz specifically, but she wondered if her old friend hadn’t sensed the tension between the other two women and drawn conclusions about their fallout. Judging by Olivia’s expression before she schooled it again, she’d seen it too.

None of that mattered right now. The only thing of any consequence tonight was helping Annette, and Mellie knew that was a place where she and Olivia could find common ground. If there was one thing Mellie could count on, it was Olivia Pope’s belief in doing the right thing.

To Mellie’s knowledge, there had only ever been one exception to that rule.

“Mrs. Grant--”

“Mellie.” Mellie leveled Olivia with a flat stare. “Now is not the time to stand on ceremony. Not tonight.”

Olivia looked at her, and finally nodded. “Right. I guess you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t absolutely critical.”

Mellie chuckled mirthlessly. “You’re not wrong about that.”

She felt Annette’s hand on her arm. “Mellie, if this isn’t the right place for us to be--”

“Annette.” Mellie sighed. “To help you, this is the _only_ place to be.”

“She’s right, Annette,” Olivia said. “Now.” She sat down and folded her hands on her desk. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”

XXXXX

“Okay, people!” Olivia marched back into the conference room where, she was relieved to see, her entire staff still sat. They’d obviously been discussing theories about why the First Lady was here, because they went shock still and stone silent as soon as the door opened. She knew her team; they were _never_ still or quiet. “Here’s the situation.”

“Why is the First Lady here?” Quinn blurted out.

“Are we getting wrapped up in another government conspiracy?” Harrison exchanged a glance with Abby. “Because I’d like not to be wearing one of my good suits if I’m gonna have to wade through the Potomac for evidence or dig around some fancy hotel’s dumpsters.”

Abby smirked. “You own _good_ suits?”

“Hush, Donna Reed. You’re wearing a _twinset_.”

Huck raised a hand. “Do I need to go get my, um, stuff?” He avoided Olivia’s eyes. “Because I haven’t been carrying it with me.”

And thank God for that; Olivia knew she’d already asked too much of Huck. But at least this case wasn’t likely to require any of _those_ skills.

Olivia needed to regain some control. She was going to be emotional enough dealing with Mellie and Annette tonight; she hadn’t burned those bridges so much as lined them with C-4 and then firebombed them, even if only one of the women knew the real reason why. But Annette Browning had been a good friend for years before...before, and she was one of the last genuinely _decent_ people left in DC. No way in hell did she deserve this kind of threat, and Olivia would do everything in her considerable power to fix this nightmare for her.

She owed her that much, at least. And given that Mellie had swallowed her dignity to come _here_ on Annette’s behalf, Olivia knew she owed her at least that much as well. 

“She’s our new client, no, and no.” Olivia rapidly answered her team’s questions. “But we’re working on something of a deadline to clear someone’s good name. We have a lot to do and not a lot of time.”

“So,” Harrison said, rubbing his forehead. “Not going home?”

Olivia smiled ruefully. “Afraid not. We have until noon tomorrow to find a blackmailer and not only destroy any falsified evidence they have, but to also make sure they don’t come after their target again.”

Abby nodded towards Mellie. “And their target is...the First Lady? Isn’t that usually something those nice men in the dark suits handle?”

A wry grin quirked on Mellie’s lips. “For tonight, it might be more accurate to think of me as your client’s representative.”

Olivia waved off the next round of questions, determined to get introductions out of the way. The sooner they got to work, the better. For all of them.

“Everyone, this is our client, Annette Browning, the executive director of the Hamilton Foundation.” She pointed to Annette, who smiled, though it was clear she was fraying at the edges, and not just from the fall benefit. Olivia knew it was typically their biggest fundraiser of the year, and if Annette had thought it was her last one, she probably would have thrown everything she had into making it a success. Even without the blackmail, she’d be exhausted. “And you all know the First Lady, Mellie Grant.”

Mellie smiled as well, though hers was tinged with the dry humor of someone who didn’t find the situation humorous at all. Olivia couldn’t blame her; it was just as well that her staff would think Mellie and Olivia’s tension was due to a friend being in trouble.

“So,” Abby said. “Annette’s being blackmailed, and she’s only got thirteen hours to pay them off? What kind of timeline is that?”

“The kind for a blackmailer who knows they can get what they want,” Huck replied.

“She got the first email last week.” Olivia handed a stack of printouts to Huck. “Start by tracing this back to the source.”

Harrison shook his head. “You’ve known about this for a _week_ ,” he looked at Olivia, “and didn’t have us working on it until now?” 

Abby snorted quietly. “To be fair, we were kind of dealing with a murder trial until recently.”

Quinn bristled. “Well, I’m _sorry_ if my being wrongfully accused of mass murder is getting in your way!”

“Don’t start!” Olivia ordered. She caught Mellie’s expression out of the corner of her eye; the First Lady was a master politician in her own right and didn’t give anything away, but Olivia recognized the tightness in the corners of her eyes. No, it was better for everyone to have something else to focus on. “I didn’t find out about this until tonight.”

“Tell me about it,” Mellie muttered. 

Olivia would yell at Annette for not asking sooner for help _later_ , when this was over. “Abby, Harrison, start with the Hamilton Foundation and work your way out. Build me a list of suspects to match against what Huck finds with the email and bank accounts. Quinn, go home with Annette and stay with her until we figure this out.”

“What am I supposed to do tomorrow morning at work?” Annette frowned, fine lines drawing around her mouth. “This is my life.”

“Yes it is.” Olivia rested a hand on Annette’s arm and squeezed gently. “And I am going to get it back for you.”

“But--”

“Just listen to Olivia,” Mellie said. “She’s the best there is, and if she needs you lying low to fix this, then you need to do it.”

Olivia met Mellie’s eyes, a silent _thank you_ passing between them. Maybe they’d make it through the night intact. “Mellie, you should probably be getting back to the White House--”

“Oh, no.” Mellie crossed her arms defiantly, and Olivia’s stomach sank. “I am staying right here with you and helping you fix this mess.”

Nope, definitely not making it through the night intact.

XXXXX

“So,” Abby asked as she sifted through human resources files at the Hamilton Foundation offices. “Was it just me, or did Olivia and the First Lady look like they wanted to throw down?”

Harrison shook his head, never looking up from his own pile of folders. “No, there was _definitely_ a vibe between the two of them.” He kept scanning the pages.

Ugh, could he just for _once_ act a little curious about The Very Secret Life of Olivia Pope? “Doesn’t that strike you as odd? At all?” Abby moved a file to the “maybe” pile of employees who might have a grudge against their boss. “I mean, she basically got the president elected and was in the White House for his first year in office. Shouldn’t she be at least _friendly_ with the First Family?”

“Do you ever get tired of asking questions about Olivia when you _know_ you won’t get an answer?”

“Steven’s gone,” Abby said, tossing a file to the “no” pile. “She has to start trusting the rest of us eventually.”

Harrison groaned and pressed his face into a folder. “She _does_ trust us. Well, some of us.” He grinned smugly. “She trusts the people who _don’t_ get all up in her business all the time.”

“Oh, shut up.” Abby threw a pen at Harrison, who dodged it with a laugh. It would serve him right if she super-glued his desk drawers shut on Monday. “I’m serious.” She frowned, taking a second look at the references for one of the newer hires. “Olivia has this whole other life that we don’t know anything about. I’d take a bullet for the woman, we all would, so why doesn’t that buy us a little more honesty?”

“You just answered your own question,” Harrison said. “We’d all take a bullet for Olivia, and she’d do the same. At the end of the day, don’t you pretty much know all the important things about her from that?”

Abby grumbled something unflattering about Harrison’s manhood under her breath, but the paper clip that smacked her in the forehead told her he’d heard her anyway. But she supposed he was right; Abby trusted Olivia implicitly, had entrusted enough of her own secrets over the years to her, so she could be patient. She could let Olivia come to her in her own time, no matter how much it irked to know that the boss they would walk through fire for had secrets that kept secrets. But then, honesty had become Abby’s weapon of choice after Olivia got her out of her old life; nothing could hurt you if you kept everything on the surface, and Abby had been hurt enough for one lifetime. It was why she stuck by Olivia after all these years; not just loyalty, but a belief in keeping people from being hurt by silence or shame. Olivia helped people keep their dignity. If to keep her own meant keeping secrets, then Abby could be patient.

For now, they had a client to help, and this client obviously meant something personal to Olivia. That was more than enough incentive for Abby. 

“Hey, take a look at this.” She passed the file that had caught her eye over to Harrison. “His last reference, the one this guy lists as a ‘career counselor’? Does that name seem familiar to you?”

Harrison frowned as he studied the name in question. “You know, yeah. Didn’t he run for Congress out of Colorado a few years back on a super-conservative platform? And lose spectacularly?”

“To a liberal.” Abby smirked, remembering now. “He went into the private sector, I think. He definitely hasn’t run for anything since then.”

“So what’s he doing giving career advice to anyone, let alone someone applying to work at a charity?”

“I don’t know,” Abby said. She picked up her phone to call the office. “But I’d say the Hamilton Foundation’s newest employee definitely goes to the top of our naughty list.”

XXXXX

“How’s it coming, Huck?”

Evidently, the silence in the office had started wearing on Olivia, because it was barely midnight before she was pacing between the conference room and the...cave where Huck was doing his work. Mellie didn’t regret insisting on waiting with Olivia rather than returning to the White House or even keeping Annette company; when Olivia’s people found out who was behind the blackmail, Mellie had every intention of going with her to confront them.

It might be dangerous, certainly, but Mellie came accompanied by two armed guards who might prove useful. She also came with a level of power that Olivia, for all her accomplishments, couldn’t hope to match. Fitz may have hated using the bully pulpit, but Mellie was starting to understand exactly the kind of influence she could wield. The First Lady carried an implicit threat of White House backing in whatever she said or did, and that couldn’t be discounted. 

She’d used that influence to try and save a country, once. Surely she could try and save a friend.

So Mellie followed Olivia to the cave, waddling more than she liked after such a long day (it was especially galling as she followed behind the sleek pants-suited Olivia) for the latest update.

Huck was tapping away at his laptop, while three more computer screens displayed data that Mellie couldn’t even begin to make sense of. 

“We’re good, Liv,” Huck said, never lifting his eyes from the screen in front of him. “Unfortunately, since Hamilton does work in all the countries you’d expect to see proxy servers in, it’s taking time to separate real communications with the Foundation from the communication lines these guys used. It’s nothing _complicated_ , just, you know--”

“Everything looks the same,” Olivia finished for him. “Yeah, I was afraid of that.”

Huck nodded, still typing. Something that might have been a map of the United States popped up on one of the monitors, though the sheer number of criss-crossing lines all over it made such a conclusion difficult. 

“The good news,” he said, “is that Abby and Harrison called. They found something in the Hamilton Foundation’s HR files that sounded suspicious.”

“What?” Mellie demanded, ignoring the shocked looks of the two people who seemed to have forgotten she was standing there. “What’s suspicious at the Foundation?”

“He didn’t say at the _Foundation_ ,” Olivia said, like she was speaking to a child. Or a wild animal. “He said they found something in someone’s HR file.” She leaned over Huck’s shoulder to look at the monitor. “What is it?”

“A personal reference from someone they didn’t think had any business giving a reference.”

Mellie didn’t like how that sounded at all. “Who?”

Huck turned around in his seat and looked at Mellie for the first time all night. She was surprised by what kind eyes he had, especially knowing what little she did about him. Olivia had quite an interesting collection here. “Some guy named Joe DiSalvo? From Colorado?”

That was a name she and Olivia knew well. “You’re kidding,” Mellie scoffed. “The guy who lost that congressional race a few years back?”

“Who lost it _big_ ,” Olivia said. “That was what, two years before the presidential race?”

“I was still trying to convince Fitz to even run.” Mellie couldn’t help but be a bit wistful for the days when Fitz actually took her advice to heart. “DiSalvo took a hit for being too conservative to represent a place like Colorado, and Fitz thought voters might think the same thing about a Republican governor from California. But it was midterms, and they’re never predictive of national elections.”

Olivia nodded. “Not to mention that DiSalvo’s race got _ugly_ near the end. It was a pretty bitter fight, and when he lost he dropped out of sight.”

Huck stared at them both. “It’s kind of freaky that you remember stuff like that.”

Mellie noticed Olivia watching her and offered a shrug. “We remember the important things.”

“So the obvious question,” Olivia said, turning away from Mellie again, “is whether it’s just coincidence or if DiSalvo’s name popping up as a reference for someone who’s only been with Hamilton for a month is the link we needed.”

A pinging sound from the computer gave them their answer. Huck scanned through the new data appearing on his monitor, and the image that Mellie thought might have been a map suddenly cleared, replaced by a distinct image of the United States with a few lines traversing the screen.

“I got a communication thread for those emails, Olivia,” Huck said. “Definitely bounced around the world a bit, not to mention the US, but no doubt they originated from Denver, Colorado.”

This time, Mellie held Olivia’s eyes. “The state capitol,” she said.

Olivia nodded. “Not a coincidence.”

“Can you find out where, exactly, the email came from?” Mellie asked.

Huck nodded, and with a few keystrokes, the map zoomed in on Colorado, then Denver, drilling down until it was clear he’d mapped out the T-1 line and server that had been used to send the original email. “200 East Colfax Avenue.”

Mellie had visited that address twice during the campaign, trying to help curry favor in the state for Fitz. Thought most of the state legislature was left-leaning at the time, the governor was then, as he was now, a strong fiscal conservative. That address had been very good to Fitz and the campaign, and she knew Olivia recognized it too.

The State Capitol Building.

No, DiSalvo’s name was definitely not a coincidence.

XXXXX

“Go home,” Olivia said, for probably the hundredth time. It was almost 3 AM, and she had been reduced to pleading with the First Lady.

“I told you, I’m staying here to help you get these people.” 

Mellie sat back down on the couch in Olivia’s office. She’d changed out of her evening gown into the casual clothing she’d had in her limo from earlier in the day for setting up the fundraiser, so at least she was moving a bit easier. But Olivia still worried; she was getting more pregnant by the minute and no matter what was happening between Mellie and Fitz, she was someone who was _very_ easily missed. 

Olivia had already done the unforgivable when she fell in love with a married man. No matter the circumstances of the baby’s conception, Olivia was not going to be responsible for anything happening to Mellie or her baby. “Anything we do won’t be until later in the morning,” she said, trying to keep a lid on her temper. Harrison, Abby, and Huck were in the conference room working out the lines of connection between Joe DiSalvo, the Colorado State Capitol, Annette Browning, and the Hamilton Foundation, but Olivia was in _here_ dealing with the _most stubborn First Lady ever_ , while two increasingly cranky Secret Service agents stood right outside the door.

All in all, she was not in the best mood.

“Mellie,” she tried again. “Please, just listen to me on this. _Even if_ you stay here until we figure out who’s blackmailing Annette, you’re not coming with us when we stop them. So _please_ , just go back to the White House. I’ll even tell Quinn to bring Annette there so you can wait with her.” Olivia sat on the edge of the couch, leaning forward to beseech this woman who might have been her friend. If it were anyone else, she’d be grabbing their hands to make them feel her sincerity, but that was a line she could never cross with Mellie. “You brought Annette here tonight because you know that I will do _everything_ in my power to help her, so I know you trust me, at least on this.”

Mellie just frowned at her, eyes bright and burning. “Why on earth _wouldn’t_ I come with you? I’m your best asset in this situation.”

Olivia gaped at her. “Uh, I think those two armed, federal agents standing ten feet away might disagree with you on that.”

“Who, Todd and Victor?” Mellie waved her concern off. “They’re lambs, and they know better than to tell me what to do. But you do raise an excellent point: wherever I go, I have _armed guards_. That immediately gives you an extra security edge.”

“He may not look it,” Olivia said dryly, “but Huck is all the security I need.”

“ _And_ ,” Mellie continued, ignoring Olivia. “My presence anywhere immediately gives you an air of authority. I _know_ you know that; you’re too smart not to.”

Olivia didn’t say anything, conceding the point. Mellie was right on that front, at least; she’d seen what Mellie’s casual comments about East Sudan had done to public opinion polls. The woman was getting very good at using her office and power.

But then, Olivia already knew exactly how calculating Mellie could be.

“And Annette’s one of my oldest friends.” Mellie’s voice was quieter now, a tone Olivia had only heard her use a few times, during the early days of the campaign, before everything with Fitz. Back when they were actually getting along, when Mellie trusted Olivia. “She knows me, I mean, _really_ knows me, and she’s stuck by me anyway for almost two decades.” She snorted, somehow managing to make even that sound elegant. Sometimes Olivia wondered how she did it. “I owe it to her to see this through to the end. If I can use my position to do that…”

Olivia sighed, mostly because she couldn’t refute anything Mellie had said. In all likelihood, they were dealing with some sort of financial or political angle behind the blackmail, which meant it wasn’t going to be _dangerous_ , per se. And if it was political, having the threat of the White House, real or imagined, standing on Olivia’s side would make negotiating the blackmailers down a hell of a lot easier.

She could be every bit as calculating as Mellie, sometimes. Olivia wondered if it wasn’t their similarities that had attracted Fitz to her, and not their differences. Obviously, the two women had the same taste in men.

“ _If_ I let you anywhere near the negotiations,” Olivia finally said, “it’ll be on _my_ terms. You will do _exactly_ what I say, and if I think things are going sour, you get the hell out of there, whether or not your agents are reacting to anything yet.” She held Mellie’s gaze sternly. “Do we understand each other?”

Mellie was silent for a few moments, watching Olivia; maybe she was trying to gauge whether Olivia was telling the truth. She was, but she would have said anything at this point. She needed to get back out there with her people and figure out the blackmail trail. Annette had been a good friend when Olivia was climbing the political ranks; Annette knew how to raise money, and Olivia knew how to get people elected and causes supported. They’d been natural allies when they’d crossed paths. She deserved to keep her reputation and the career she’d worked so hard to build. Stepping down from the Hamilton Foundation was as good as saying she’d reached the pinnacle of her career, and that simply wasn’t the case. Annette had many more years of good work ahead of her, and Olivia intended to see her achieve them.

Even if it meant taking the First Lady of the United States with her to secretly meet a blackmailer.

“I was a pretty good attorney, you know,” Mellie finally said. Olivia thought she might have almost been smiling. “Don’t discount me completely.”

No, Olivia knew better than to discount Mellie Grant. She’d just realized that too late. “Like I said, as long as you do exactly what I say, up to and including leaving if I think things are getting too dangerous, then I guess I really can’t stop you.”

Mellie nodded. “I’ll follow your lead on this.” With great difficulty, she pushed herself up off the couch, waving away Olivia’s attempts at helping her. “Now, let’s go see what your people have come up with.”

Olivia followed her out of the office, thinking that maybe they were all starting to come out the other side.

XXXXX

Abby crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the conference table, looking at the maze on the wall. It didn’t make any sense, but the connections had started coming together with Huck’s Colorado discovery. She could follow all the intersecting lines, but as far as making a big picture out of the tangled mess of photographs, dossiers, and bank records…

They needed Olivia. Who was currently locked in her office, apparently babysitting an overly invested First Lady.

“How come no one’s asking the obvious question?”

Harrison and Huck looked up from their respective piles of work. “And which question would that be?” Harrison asked.

Abby gave him her best “duh” expression. “The _question_ of why Olivia was so certain that Annette Browning was being framed.”

Harrison returned his own “duh” face. “Well, for starters, she _is_ being framed,” he said. “The email trace, and now all of this,” he gestured to their scandal board, “proves it.”

“The First Lady believes her too,” Huck said. “Seems to me that if she and Olivia agree about something, it’s probably worth taking seriously.” 

“It’s simple, really.”

The three of them whipped around at Olivia’s voice as she and Mrs. Grant walked into the conference room. “We’ve known Annette for a _very_ long time,” Olivia said. “I need you to believe me when I tell you that she’s not to kind of person who would steal from her business, let alone a charity.”

“Not to mention that the entire email was basically one big threat,” Mrs. Grant added. “That makes it harder to take seriously.”

Abby swallowed and looked down, a silent apology to Olivia. Still, she’d _had_ to ask, and she knew Olivia understood that.

“So,” Olivia said, moving fully into the room. Mrs. Grant was right behind her, while the two Secret Service agents (who looked like they almost hoped someone would attack the First Lady so they’d have an excuse to shoot someone) stayed at the door. “Tell me what you’ve got.”

“We’ve got a whole lot of connections that don’t make a lot of sense,” Harrison said.

Olivia nodded. “Break it down for me.” Mrs. Grant cleared her throat, and Olivia amended, “us.”

Abby pointed to the center photograph. “We’ve got Joe DiSalvo, disgraced congressional candidate from Colorado, acting as a personal reference for someone who was _just_ hired to work in Annette Browning’s office.” She pointed to another image. “Our junior staffer, who seems to have been logging onto Annette’s computer after hours and planting all sorts of dirty little secrets that lead back to her.” She gestured to the broadband map of the US. “Huck traced the origin of the email with the blackmail threat back to the Colorado State Capitol building in Denver.” Abby stepped over to point at a series of papers taped to the wall. “After that, we started back-tracing those Cayman Islands accounts. It turns out, they’ve been routed through several Swiss and Singapore banks, before coming back to a holding company based in Chicago.”

“Chicago?” Mrs. Grant asked, one hand braced against her lower back, making her stomach extend out awkwardly. “What’s the connection back to Colorado?”

“I am _so_ glad you asked that!” Abby smiled brightly. She didn’t care much for the First Lady or the President’s politics, but she could respect a woman with a brain. “So, it seems that this holding company is a shell for several construction companies.”

Mrs. Grant smiled grimly. “I see.”

Olivia nodded as well. “DiSalvo made his fortune in land development.”

“Gee,” Abby said. “I can’t imagine why that wouldn’t go over well with the voters of Colorado.”

Harrison snorted behind her.

“Anyway,” she said, “you’re right on the money, as it were. One of those construction companies is a wholly owned subsidiary of DiSalvo Development, LLC.”

“So we’ve got a money trail linking DiSalvo to the fake bank records,” Olivia said, picking up the pace of the conversation. “Which means the gap we’re missing is with the Capitol building in Denver.”

“The governor endorsed DiSalvo during the election,” Mrs. Grant said, looking thoughtful. “That defeat hit him hard during the campaign last year, and he only had a slim margin for re-election.”

“If I had more time,” Huck said, “I might be able to get you a specific computer in the Capitol building that sent the email, but I’d have to break down their firewalls and server in order to pick apart the users.”

“We’re missing something,” Olivia murmured, staring at the wall. “Something obvious…”

“Why didn’t DiSalvo just wait to run again?” Harrison asked, taping a picture of a woman on the wall. “I mean, Congresswoman Matthews isn’t exactly making waves in the House. Wouldn’t he have an easy run?”

Mrs. Grant shook her head at that. “The only reason he ran for the House instead of the Senate was because the governor convinced him he’d have a better chance with a more local electorate. I met the man at a fundraiser once; believe me, he did not think he was meant for anything less than high political office.”

“High office…”

Abby blinked. “What did you say, Liv?”

“High office,” Olivia said louder. “Oh my God.”

“What is it?” Huck stood up, immediately concerned by the look on Olivia’s face.

Olivia spun around and caught Mrs. Grant’s eyes. “Senator Tomlinson!”

“Helen Tomlinson?” Mrs. Grant asked. “The senior senator from Colorado, not to mention a supporter of…” She stared at Olivia in shock. “ _No_.”

Olivia nodded, an excited grin starting to blossom on her face. Abby could feel herself getting giddy too; that look usually meant that Olivia had figured out the missing piece to the puzzle and was about to rain down hellfire on someone. 

“Tomlinson has _always_ been a strong supporter of the Hamilton Foundation,” Olivia said. 

Mrs. Grant was starting to look positively livid. “She was at the fundraiser tonight. She kept telling Annette how wonderful everything was, but would keep dropping casual comments about all the things she would have done differently if, say, _she_ were running the Foundation.”

“If a senator steps down before their term is up, the governor gets to appoint their replacement until the next election.” Olivia turned back to the rest of them, eyes wide as she explained the big picture. “It’s a _trade_. The governor of Colorado is selling a Senate seat to Disalvo in exchange for DiSalvo’s help getting Tomlinson to the Hamilton Foundation.”

Well, Abby thought, that’s just _evil_. And also a little brilliant. “But what does the governor get out of it?” she asked, because the finer details still didn’t make sense. “And how could they guarantee that Tomlinson would get the job running Hamilton?”

“Believe me,” Mrs. Grand said. “If the Hamilton Foundation faced a power vacuum, especially one caused by a scandal, they’d need someone reputable and noteworthy, with a long history with the Foundation. Helen Tomlinson fits that description to a tee.”

Harrison rolled his eyes. “Sure, reputable. Except for her whole ‘accessory to blackmail and extortion’ thing.”

“Of course,” Abby said, “except for that.”

“What about the governor?” Huck asked.

“My guess,” Olivia said, “is that the money in those fake bank accounts that they’re using to scare Annette into stepping down will be transferred over to him as soon as the dust settles. Not to mention that he’ll have a senator and a powerful charity head in his pockets.”

“Can we prove this?” Mrs. Grant asked. “Can we prove the connection between DiSalvo, the governor, and Tomlinson?” 

Abby didn’t fail to notice how she included herself right in there with the rest of them; from the slight widening of her eyes, Olivia didn’t miss it either. Interesting. But she would hold her questions back and give Olivia time to come to her.

“Now that I know exactly who to look for,” Huck said, already on his laptop, “getting what we need shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good,” Olivia said. “Let me know when you’ve got everything together.”

Mrs. Grant turned to Olivia. “So, how do we take them down?”

And then, Olivia made Abby’s _favorite_ face: she smiled, wide and full. “Oh, _we’re_ not going to take them down,” Olivia said. “We’re going to wrap them up in a nice little bow and give them as a present to someone _very_ deserving.” Mrs. Grant started to protest, but Olivia stilled her with a hand to her elbow. Abby couldn’t tell which woman was more shocked by the gesture, but Olivia continued. “I promised you that you would be there when these guys are stopped, and I meant that. I’ll make sure we have the best seats in the house. It’s gonna be one hell of a show.”

XXXXX

The “show” was the keynote speech at the Western States Conference, held the next morning at the Ritz-Carlton. Both Senator Tomlinson and Governor Warner were there, as representatives of Colorado, and Joe Disalvo was there as well, to speak on behalf of Western business interests.

David Rosen, the AUSA who led the team of FBI agents into the conference room, didn’t bother to hide his satisfaction at watching the handcuffs go on the three people who’d not only conspired to sell a Senate seat, but had tried to do so at the expense of a good woman’s reputation.

From the back of the room, Olivia, Annette, and Mellie (and her ever-present Secret Service agents, looking none the worse for wear after twenty-four hours on duty), watched with satisfaction as justice was served.

“This is going to hurt the party, you know,” Mellie said. She had to think about that; if there was any hope of keeping control of Congress next year at midterms, they would need to start managing the fallout from this now.

“They hurt themselves,” Olivia argued. “Besides, this opens up several elections for new blood. That’s always a good thing for Republicans.”

“I still can’t believe you did all this in twelve hours.” Annette leaned against the door frame, one hand resting lightly over her mouth. “You’re something else, Olivia.”

Olivia gave a half-smile and shrugged. “I’m just glad Mellie convinced you to come to us for help. And don’t think I don’t plan on yelling at you later about how long it took you to tell anyone about this.”

Annette chuckled softly. “Noted. I’ll schedule the verbal lashing in between press conferences.”

Mellie opened her mouth to respond, but David walked up to them before she could say anything. He looked at the three of them, seemed to consider something, and shook his head. “There’s not enough Scotch in the world to make sense of this.” He raised an eyebrow at Mellie. “Mrs. Grant.”

She just raised her own eyebrow in return. It had been that kind of day, after all. “Mr. Rosen. Quite the scene you’ve made here this morning.”

“Yeah,” he said, turning to Olivia. “Funny thing about that. I turned on my computer this morning, and what did I see? An email containing extremely damning evidence that two high-ranking members of Colorado’s political structure and one of the wealthiest developers in the country were involved in a conspiracy to sell a Senate seat in exchange for a position with a global charity.” He shook his head. “That was quite the whistle-blowing, there.”

Olivia just shrugged innocently. “I have _no idea_ what you’re talking about, David.” She gestured across the lobby towards the restaurant. “I was just here for breakfast when I saw all the agents swarming the conference room.”

Clearly, David didn’t believe a word Olivia said. But, just as clearly, he had no intention of calling her on it. Mellie found herself wondering about the two of them. “Of course,” David said. “Well, if you’re all just here as _innocent bystanders_ , then I guess I’ll leave you to it and get back to work.”

He turned to leave, but looked back once more at Annette. “And Ms. Browning? Congratulations on keeping your job.” He walked back to the swarm of federal agents, and Mellie leaned back against the wall.

“Well,” Mellie said, chuckling. “I don’t quite think he believed your story, Olivia.”

Olivia leaned against the wall too, closing her eyes for a moment. “He doesn’t have to believe us, he just has to believe the evidence.”

“It sounds like he does,” Annette said. “I don’t know how to thank the two of you.”

“Nonsense.” Mellie didn’t need any thanks; all she needed to know was that Annette was still where she was supposed to be: at the Hamilton Foundation, and in her life. That was all Mellie felt confident asking for.

“Don’t ever thank me for doing my job,” Olivia said. “I’m just glad I was able to help in time.”

Annette nodded. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “the two of you made a pretty good team last night.”

Mellie decided to blame the heat she felt prickling her eyes on hormones. She couldn’t disagree with Annette, though; once upon a time, she and Olivia had made the _best_ team. They’d helped each other get a president elected. It was just a shame that president was also the reason they fell apart. In some ways, she missed Olivia’s passion and determination, especially during the early days of the campaign, more than she missed Fitz. 

But that was another life, and they were here now. And nothing could undo the last two years. They’d all made choices. Last night was just one choice of many, and it wasn’t enough to tip the scales.

“We had a common cause,” Olivia finally said, when it was clear Mellie wouldn’t speak. “I think that always drives people to greater heights.”

“Still.” Annette shook her head and checked her watch. “I didn’t think I’d be able to say this again, but I have to get to the office. Things are going to be a bit crazy today.” A sharper edge tinged her grin. “And I have someone I need to fire as soon as possible.”

Mellie laughed. “If he’s smart, he’s already quit.”

Olivia pointed to the politicians being led away in handcuffs, shouting for their attorneys. “I don’t think ‘smart’ is a word we can use to describe this group.” She grimaced. “I mean, really, falsifying bank records? Didn’t they think anyone would check? Not to mention that an audit of the Foundation would show that no money had actually been stolen.”

“Olivia,” Annette said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Take the win.”

Olivia nodded once, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“I expect to see you at the next Foundation fundraiser,” Annette said as she walked towards the lobby. “Don’t think you can get out of it now!”

And then she was gone, leaving Mellie and Olivia alone. It didn’t feel as awkward as it could have, but it didn’t feel as natural as it should have, either. It never would again.

“So,” Olivia said.

“So,” Mellie repeated.

“Back to our corners?”

Mellie nodded. “Thank you,” she said quietly. If she didn’t say it now, she probably never would. “I appreciate what you did more than you’ll ever know.”

“Annette’s good people,” Olivia said. “It was my privilege to help her.”

With a sigh, Mellie looked out at the lobby. “Getting out of here will be a nightmare. By now the press must be swarming.”

“Huck’s waiting to help you out the kitchen exit.” Olivia offered her a small, genuine smile, and Mellie found herself returning it. Funny how lightning didn’t strike and the world didn’t stop turning. “And even if anyone asks, we were meeting for breakfast to catch up. It was just supremely bad timing that it happened here, today.”

Mellie shook her head. “You’ve always got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“It’s my job.”

Mellie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from responding to that, because it was still too easy to let the bitterness take over. But America’s Baby was starting to kick, reminding her that she’d been on her feet for a full day, longer than she’d been since becoming pregnant. It was time to go. Mellie still had things she needed to do for her country before she could start sorting things out for herself. Right now, that meant making the White House the picture perfect home of America’s First Family, and using that cultural capital to help steer the Grant Administration on the right course.

Maybe, when everything was finished, she’d find a way to forgive Olivia.

“Time to go,” Olivia muttered, gesturing to the growing crowd in the lobby.

Mellie nodded and stepped between her Secret Service agents. Head high and proud, she walked confidently towards the exit, and towards whatever came next for her. Towards her future.


End file.
